Jun 12, 2020
seen from Norway
seen from South Korea
seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Qatar
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Malaysia
seen from Poland
seen from United Kingdom
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
The gravel road made the same noise she remembered from her childhood, while she was driving over it, approaching the small house on the little hill. That same noise she was hearing as a child when she was riding in the back seat of her parent’s car. The noise that gave her that feeling of arrival after a five-hour car ride. Now it gave her a strange feeling. She had not been at her grandma’s house since she passed away a few years ago. As she reached the house and parked her car, she realized that what once had been a well looked after and neatly groomed garden in front of the house had been taking over by nature. The small house with its crooked roof, was hidden by big bushes and shrubs. Almost as if it was tucked in a green blanket she thought as she approached the wooden door, which was once painted in bright orange. Now only a few spots of paint reminded of the colour it used to have, the rest of it had flaked off over time due to weather and seasons. While she put the key in the rusty lock and turned it, she realized she never needed to use this lock before, as her grandma always had been in the house when she visited, waiting and opening the door for her. She looked in the small room which used to be her grandmas living room. On the opposite site of the room was her grandmas old and trusted wooden fired stove, in front of which she used to sit, on her little wooden stool, watching her grandma cook, on cold winter days. The wall behind it was barely visible as it was covered by pots and pans, whisks and spoons, sieves and strainers and all sorts of other cooking utensils. The copper pans were reflecting the evening sun brought in through the open door, filling the room with a golden and orange shine. As she stepped in, the old pine floorboards started squeaking. To her right was the small table, which was painted in a vivid blue. That she used to love as a kid, because it would not matter when she made a mess while eating and that she got annoyed by as she grew older, as it was always wobbly, because one of its four legs was a bit shorter than the others. Around the table stood four chairs, all of which were different. One was made of dark wood with leather upholstery, one was painted red with a green cushion, one had a metal base with its seat and backrest made out of plastic and one was made out of pine wood, but got grey over time as her grandma always put it outside to sit in the garden and too often forgot in the rain. Behind the table was the old and steep wooden stair that led up to the attic where she used to sleep when she was little. To her left, next to a small wooden window, was her grandmas beloved armchair, that had patches all over it covering up the wear of the decades. As her grandma used to sit in it every night watching the sun set over the little forest at the end of her gravel road or taking midday naps after reading the newspaper. On the wall to the left, her grandma’s collection of wooden figures and colourfully painted ceramics was displayed in rustic, dark stained shelves. What once used to shine in vibrant colours was now covered in a thick layer of dust, dampening the colours and unifying everything in a dull grey. Disguised between all the shelves with her grandma’s collectibles was the small door to her grandma’s bedroom, that used to scratch over the floor when you opened it.
The description of the Antwerp railway station is not too specific regarding its general layout but listing and describing a lot of details and key elements of its architecture. The language used to describe architecture is not poetic but rather analytic.
The descriptions resemble a lecture in architectural history, given that the main protagonist is an art historian.
By the analysing some of the elements borrowed from renaissance architecture a good image is given about the ideas of power and representation, underlying this type of architecture, back in the days it was built.
Although description of architecture is a big part of the book, it has no greater meaning for the plot but rather is jut describing the environment of the protagonists.
The architectures described in the book have no greater meaning for the plot but rather are just the environment surrounding the protagonists.